It's Gonna Haunt You So
by Elesteria
Summary: Altaïr interrupts Malik from his work, but for the two of them, it's never as simple as that. There's always something itching under the surface, ready to turn into a battle of wills.


**A/N:** Titled taken from Marion Harris' 'After You've Gone', which I listened to on repeat while writing this, because there is nothing quite like listening to a song that sounds like it's being played straight from a record player. Once again, still practicing with these characters, so this is just more character interactions.

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**It's Gonna Haunt You So**

Malik's quill stuttered over the parchment spread across his desk, fingers instantly clenching to compensate for the way his fingers slipped over it. He lifted it, careful not to smudge the lines of his map any more than he already had. He tapped the quill off in the inkpot, not sure if he would need to prepare for any more possible accidents. Then again, with the way things worked in his life, the inkpot would end up completely spilled across his half-finished map.

"Altaïr," Malik greeted with a sigh. He set the quill down on the table, but didn't turn to face the man he was sure was behind him. He hadn't heard him enter his offices, but between Malik's attention being consumed by his map and Altaïr's predilection to sneaking around, he wasn't surprised.

"Usually you are more attentive, brother." Altaïr's breath was hot on the back of his neck, much closer than he had thought. Malik only gave him a hum of response, before picking his quill up again. He didn't feel the need to lash out at Altaïr's words, not like he once would have. The amused tone to the statement didn't grate as it once had, not now that he knew it wasn't meant as criticism.

"How long have you been at work?" Altaïr asked, reaching around Malik to smooth his fingers over an unmarked corner of the parchment. Malik had to fight the instinctive urge to slap his fingers away. Instead he retraced over the line that he had mangled when he realized that he was no longer alone. "This is a new map, not one that you've previously worked on."

"Have you become observant on all papers upon which I lay lines now, Altaïr?" Malik asked, his voice laced with a defensive bite. He had indeed started the map at the beginning of the day and had already spent long hours filling the blank canvas with what he knew. Long hours spent without break, with only moments to roll his wrist and massage the cramping muscles.

"You have spent all day in the confines of this room, without food and without rest. Call an end to your day and join me for dinner. It is unhealthy to go all day as you have." Altaïr coaxed, fingers reaching from the paper and plucking the quill from Malik's hand. He seemed ignorant of the way Malik stiffened at his words, a curl of anger twisting its way through him.

"Unhealthy is it?" Malik breathed his voice brittle even to his own ears. He let Altaïr take the quill from him, his body hot against Malik's back as he leaned in to lay the quill on the desk.

Altaïr made a noncommittal noise, a sign that he was indeed aware of Malik's rising fury.

"So you would say that one going without rest, without food, without water for a long period of time is unhealthy? Why then, do you prescribe the opposite to yourself, Altaïr?" Malik demanded, new words for an old argument between them. It seemed unfair that Altaïr was allowed to pull him away from his studies, but he was not in turn granted the right to pull Altaïr away from that damned apple of his.

No, Malik was not allowed to spend an entire day on his own tasks, but Altaïr was allowed to spend days, or weeks, working with that cursed object of his. The worst thing that could happen to Malik was a sore wrist and a strong desire for sleep. Altaïr himself had suffered so much more; delirium, malnourishment, and nightmares. Malik feared that it could only get worse that his symptoms could only progress the more time he spent in company with the piece of Eden.

Altaïr covered Malik's hand with his own, fingers wrapping around the fist his hand had clenched into. The sigh Altaïr released ruffled the hair at the back of Malik's neck, a warm flare of heat.

"That is different, for you, it will always be different." Altaïr attempted and if his words were to make sense, they did not. Malik pulled his hand out from under Altaïr's and turned to face him. This close, he could see his eyes, hardened by resolve, under the edge of his cowl.

"I have spent longer periods of time than this at work. The price I pay is minimal to the one that you, yourself pay. It is not different." Malik hissed.

"You spend so much time at work, then return for sleep. Except you then fall into a sleep that is then haunted by ghosts that are not yours to bear. It is different, because you are worth more than these horrors you face at night, of the agony they cause you. They cannot have you, Malik."

"Give me the peace of mind that you are alright, Malik. Come out of this room, without words about the decisions I make. I am trying, brother, let that be all that you ask of me." The plea rattled Malik, enough so, that he didn't have the words to respond. "I do not want to rehash this argument, not today."

Malik pursed his lips, keeping his biting retort to himself. He was tired of the argument himself, tired of the way his thoughts on it were ignored. There was only so long one could run at a wall, until they finally needed to admit defeat and find another way. His fingers latched onto Altaïr's robes, twisting in the fabric as he steadied himself.

"The next time I try to pull you away from your own work, you listen, that is the only way I will go with you." Malik gritted out, holding Altaïr's gaze. He wouldn't take anything less, if this was what it would come down to. He didn't have other options, not anymore. Not when his arguments had run dry and words couldn't take hold. Altaïr was too thick headed for his own good.

Altaïr didn't say anything for a long while, his lips curling down into a frown. He exhaled loudly, a small sound of defeat. "If that is what it takes to keep you rested."

"Then go and I shall follow, Altaïr." Malik released his grip on Altaïr's robe, stretching his sore fingers out. He watched as Altaïr turned and left the room on heavy footsteps, ones that Malik followed without hesitation.


End file.
